


Just a nice moment

by Akrois



Category: Baldur's Gate
Genre: M/M, Male Charname: Nero, POV Second Person, a blue tiefling who looks at Astarion and goes "there's the love of my life", basically a glorified drabble, hold hands, the title is still a work in progress, there's very little dialogue, they just, while Astarion is more like "ugh. intimacy."
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:34:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27701453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akrois/pseuds/Akrois
Summary: His palm turns around and his fingers tangle with yours, swallowing your hand. He’s warm, you realize. Warm and sweet, like mulled wine on a winter’s night.
Relationships: Astarion/Charname (Baldur's Gate)
Kudos: 29





	Just a nice moment

**Author's Note:**

> TWO FICS IN A MONTH? Who am I, Stephen King?  
> this is just a short little piece I literally wrote on my phone in like twenty minutes and went "man, I should post this."  
> so, there it is.   
> Nero is my OC in Baldur's Gate and he's just the kind of guy who sees an angry vampire gremlin and goes " I would die for you."   
> also, if I had a dollar for every time I wrote a fic where someone is mesmerized by someone else's hand I would have two dollars. which is not a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice. 
> 
> the title is really a work in progress and I might change it or I might not.

Nero’s arm lays over your shoulders, his hand resting on the dirt past the edge of the bedroll.

You know you should get up and go, but it seems too hard to move right now. There’s a slice of moonlight coming from a hole in the tent, and your gaze follows it to the light blue of his palm.

It’s a good hand, you think as you take it between yours; large and strong. He has calluses, you notice, both from his bow and from his sword.

Is this his draw hand? You can only remember how he looks as he shoots his arrows, the line of his back, the curve of his hip, the clear intent in his eyes. In all honesty, never noticed which hand he uses to draw.

You turn the hand around, studying the number of small scars that litter his skin. His nails are long and remind you of claws. Thick, sharp, and somewhat bony. Is it a nail or an actual bone, you wonder. You stare at the top of his index finger, but it looks like a nail. You try to pull it back but it won’t budge, more like a bone. The hand twitches and you feel Nero moving, his body rolling against yours.

“You are awake.” you say, eloquently.

“And you are beautiful.” says Nero, pushing his face against your head, his nose hidden in your hair.

“How sentimental.”

“Only for you.” You can feel his smile even if you can’t see it.

His palm turns around and his fingers tangle with yours, swallowing your hand. He’s warm, you realize. Warm and sweet, like mulled wine on a winter’s night.

“It’s still early. Sleep.”

“I don’t sleep, darling. I assumed you knew that by now.”

“Meditate, then. Read a book? Write one?”

“That sounds like a delightful idea. Should I start a journal, then? Or maybe a little scrapbook, to hold the precious memories of our time spent together.”

You try to wiggle away, and Nero lets you. He always lets you go when you want to, something that always surprises you. It’s strange but pleasant.

Still, he is not the one who used to keep you from going somewhere. And Cazador would never let you move away from him. A considerate gesture today doesn’t cancel two centuries of despair.

Yet. You appreciate it. And him.

You blame your silly feelings as you fall back against his chest, muttering about how cold and miserable it is outside. His arms find their way around you again and he nods against your hair.

You’ll slide out of his tent before the sun rises.

For now, you rest.

  



End file.
